Fear Familiar Bundle (28 page)

"Breck?" Eleanor felt as if she were hearing an unknown tongue. "He was behind this. He's the one who hired Evans to train the monkey. He's…"

"I never knew anything," Charles Breck said. He assisted Issac Demont to his feet and helped steady him.

"He was a tool of Evans," Peter agreed. He pulled Eleanor closer, delighting in the feel of her body against his own. He'd been worried sick about her.

"And Evans?" She swung around to find her colleague at the end of the room, a wide smile on her face. She held a deadly looking weapon trained on Evans, who sat holding his wounded arm.

"He's going to a place where he may come to understand the sensations of being caged," Magdalena said with pleasure. "Of course, if our system gets tired of holding him, we can always send him to Motambu to stand trial."

"Who shot him?" Eleanor asked. Events had transpired too fast.

"I did," Peter said softly. "He fired at Demont, and I shot him. He set me up for Nottingham's murder."

"And me," Breck said.

"And me," Magdalena added. She turned to Breck. "When will you learn not to trust people who mistreat animals? We've been through this again and again…."

"A very wise and valuable lady," Issac Demont said, taking Magdalena's arm. "Let me talk with you about a job in my country. Perhaps as Minister of Small Creatures." He smiled at her and for the first time in her life it appeared Magdalena was at a loss for words.

"And Zelda?" Eleanor asked. The orangutan was following closely at Demont's heels as he walked to a corner with Magdalena.

"We thought at first she'd have to be destroyed," Breck confessed, "but Issac absolutely refuses to consider it. He's going to take her home and love her. You know she was his, and Evans had her stolen. It's one of the sickest plots."

"Why?" Eleanor asked. Pressed against Peter, she felt isolated from all the terrible things that had happened to her. He was strong, safe, and he held her as if he'd never let her go.

"Because he's a sick man," Peter said softly. "I've hated him for years, but I guess I never fully acknowledged that he isn't evil. He's merely sick."

"And he will be put in a place where he can never harm another living thing again," Breck assured her.

"What will happen to Betty?" she asked. She sought her friend's gaze across the room. Betty grinned and nodded at her.

"We'll see," Breck said. "We'll take everything into account."

"Champagne,
madame
?" A waiter came up to Eleanor and held out a glass.

"No, thanks," she said, shaking her head. It wasn't until she saw the laughing eyes of Joey that she laughed herself. "And you were in on this, too?"

"As much as Dr. Curry would let me," he said. "We wanted to rescue you, but Magdalena made us wait."

"A wise woman," Charles Breck finally agreed. "But don't tell her I said so," he whispered to Eleanor. "Now I'd better take Evans to the local authorities, so we can begin the process of ending this mess."

"Home at last, Eleanor." Peter opened the door to her apartment building for her and handed her into the lobby.

A wide-awake Familiar was clutched to the bosom of her red sequined dress. Eleanor held the cat as if he were her last friend.

"You need a hot bath and some rest." He continued talking to her, soothing her. "You look positively haunted."

"I'm okay," she said, finally hearing the worry in his voice. She'd been lost in her own thoughts. So much had happened so quickly, it was still hard for her to grasp that it was all over. Evans was under arrest, and everyone else was safe. Everyone but Sam Nottingham.

"Don't think about it anymore," Peter said.

His hazel eyes were fiery with determination, and Eleanor felt them transfer their warmth to her chilled bones. And those eyes held a promise that at last made her emotions begin to thaw.

"Dr. Curry, Dr. Duncan!" Wessy came up to them. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes." Peter patted the older man's arm. "At last everything is okay. And I owe you an apology. I thought you were mixed up in all of this."

"No problem," Wessy said. "As long as Dr. Duncan is safe, there's no problem at all. I'm glad you worry about her."

He turned to Eleanor. "Hey, you've got a present. Some kid left this for you," he said, reaching into the doorman's room and coming out with a bottle of wine. "He said to tell you to celebrate your victory— and your future together. Those were the exact words."

"Joey," Eleanor said, taking the bottle. "I'm glad he escaped any serious injury." She looked at Peter and felt an irresistible desire to kiss him. Fate had kept them apart, but now it was time to explore the delicious feelings they had for each other. It was a risk as big as any she'd ever taken in her life. "Let's go upstairs and uncork this bottle," she said.

Twenty minutes later with a purring Familiar curled on her lap and a glass of the delicious burgundy in her hand, Eleanor felt the knots in her stomach loosen. There was only one thing left to do— to bury Carter Wells and her past. Peter was her future, and she wanted to start clean, without any misunderstandings.

"Let me say one final thing," she said slowly. "My life with Carter was hell. I suppose it was worse than I remember, because I monitor my memories. I should have left him a million times. But my family disapproved of him— disapproved is too mild a word. When I married Carter, I severed all ties with my family. I call them in Arizona at Christmas— " she paused to push back her hair "— but I'm going to change that this year. Anyway, they forced me to the choice, and I guess I was so headstrong I couldn't admit I'd made a serious mistake. So I stayed with him."

"You were a very young woman," Peter said. "I'm sure you were scared."

She nodded. "Very scared. If I was wrong about Carter, then I'd ruined my own life for no good reason. So I hung on, hoping each day that he'd change, or that something would happen to free me. And it did. The car accident."

"You can't feel guilty because Carter's death brought you a measure of relief. You were trapped in a bad situation, but you didn't do anything wrong."

"I know I didn't, and I honestly hadn't thought about him in years. But when I saw the man Evans had hired to pretend to be him, when I heard that voice, I believed he was back. Logically I fought it, but emotionally it was my nightmare come true. I didn't tell you right away, because I was afraid I might have been hallucinating."

She filled both of their wineglasses again before she had the nerve to continue. "I haven't felt anything— allowed myself to feel— for a man since my feelings for Carter died. I guess I was afraid of my reaction to you. I do feel something for you, Peter. Something real."

"I know," he said.

"And I was afraid that I'd brought Carter back in my mind, to punish me for wanting you."

"Oh, Eleanor." He put his glass aside and drew her into his arms. "What have you been going through? Whatever happened, just remember that you're not alone. Whatever happens in the future, we'll solve it. Together."

His fingers traced along her back, delicious swirls of pleasure following each light touch. The pressure became stronger, more insistent, and she moved toward him in response. Lifting her face, she smiled at him, then initiated a kiss.

Peter's response was restrained, but hungry, relishing her suppleness. She pressed her lips eagerly to his, demanding a longer, deeper kiss.

Throwing caution to the wind, Peter kissed her with a devouring need. A quick memory of his first sight of her came back to him. She was standing in his examining room, black cat in her arms. He'd wanted her then. When he'd examined her face, he'd been drawn to her eyes. Brown and wide, they'd surprised him with their innocence. He'd been sure she was trying to set him up. He smiled slightly, and Eleanor drew back.

"What is it?" she asked, breathless.

"Sometimes I amaze myself with my cynicism," he murmured. "I saw many things I admired when I first met you. Yet I couldn't accept that right away. It took time for me to believe you were real." He closed off further conversation with another kiss, one that grew quickly to an unspoken agreement. He helped her to her feet, and they walked to the bedroom.

The moon was a silent witness as Peter removed her clothes. When she was nude, the red dress a shimmer of fallen stars around her feet, she began to unbutton his shirt. His hands explored the contours of her back as she worked quickly.

Stepping free of the last restraints of his clothing, he pulled her into his arms yet again and kissed her with a possessive force that tipped back her head against his arm. Locked in an embrace, they moved to the bed.

Later, lying in the silvery light that filtered through the blinds, she kissed his cheek. The moon was high, unblinking. Her voice was barely louder than a sigh when she spoke. "When did you make me fall in love with you?"

"Oh, about two hours ago. It was the magic of my kiss." He grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers. "Up until that time, you were only moderately interested."

She laughed at him, kissing his nose and chin and chest. The dark hairs were soft and cushiony to her fingers. She traced patterns through them.

"Are you sleepy?" she asked.

"I'm too satisfied to sleep." He kissed her neck. "Why don't we finish that wine?"

He rose, taking a moment to give Familiar, who was curled at the foot of the bed, a friendly stroke before he went to the living room and retrieved the wine and glasses.

"Do you think Familiar is jealous?" Eleanor asked. She meant the question to be a joke, but Peter gave her a long look before he poured the wine.

"Don't take it too lightly. He might be. So we'll just have to give him some extra affection and reassurance. Remember, you belong to him. I'm a visitor, until he comes to accept me into his family. And I believe he will. Familiar is a smart cat, and animals often understand the dynamics of a relationship long before the people involved do. Familiar has been aware of my evil intentions to seduce you." He waggled his eyebrows and grinned.

Eleanor lifted the cat into her lap, adding another contrast to those of the blue sheets around her legs and the pale ivory of her skin. "I can't believe the way this rascal has won my heart," she said. "I must be a real soft touch for hairy mammals."

"And I can't believe the way you've won mine," Peter answered, handing her a brimming glass. "I have to tell you, Eleanor. I've fallen deeply in love with you. I want to become a part of your life."

"Peter," she said, suddenly overwhelmed by what he was saying. "This is happening so fast."

"Take your time. We have the entire future to work it out. But know that I love you, and that I want to share my life with you. There's no obstacle we can't overcome, if we attack it together."

Eleanor stroked the purring cat. Peter's words affected her deeply, touching a place in her heart that she'd never allowed anyone else to touch. She'd never had a real marriage. She and Carter had been at odds from the first. But now she felt the pull of Peter's love.

"We'll talk. Tomorrow," she said, her voice husky with emotion. "I have to ask Familiar what he thinks."

"You've got it," Peter said, sitting on the bed. "Now drink your wine and tell me when you'll be free of all university obligations this coming spring. I want to plan a trip. We'll go somewhere with sun and sand and water. We'll put all of this behind us and simply relax."

"I could learn to love this way of life," Eleanor told him, snuggling into the covers. She sipped her wine and let her hand scratch and tickle the sleeping cat. "I have this feeling that life with you could be close to perfect."

They talked for another half hour, finishing the last of the wine. The intimacy, the physical release and the wine began to act on Eleanor like a powerful potion.

"I feel like Sleeping Beauty, ready to go down for the thousand-year count," she declared, sliding farther into the bed.

"I feel absolutely drugged," Peter answered. His wineglass rolled from his fingers and fell to the carpet. He made an effort to grab for it, but fell back half a foot short. "I can't even judge distance anymore," he said, amazed.

Eleanor reached for the bedside light switch, but her hand struck the table with enough force to bruise. Oddly enough, she didn't feel anything. A singing wire of panic flashed through her brain.

"Peter!" She spoke aloud, but the word came out as a whisper. "What's happening to us?"

"I don't know," he answered. "I feel…helpless."

She tried to struggle from the bed, but her limbs refused to cooperate. She had to get up, to move. She felt as if her life depended on it, but her body refused to budge. Turning to Peter for help, she found him already asleep, his dark head pressed deep in a pillow.

"Peter!" She shook him. "You have to wake up!"

He flailed at the bed, but his eyes never opened.

"Peter!" Hysteria grew in her, but she could barely move.

"Peter!" She cried his name as if she could pull him from his deep sleep by her need.

"Eleanor!"

The voice came from somewhere outside the bedroom. "Yes, Eleanor, it's me. Peter can't help you now, you're mine!"

It was impossible. Evans was behind bars and Carter was dead! She struggled against the sheets and blankets. They pressed on her like some constricting device. She had to get up, to save Peter and herself.

"Don't struggle, Eleanor. There's nothing you can do. I've come for you, to take you back with me. Back to the grave."

Carter Wells's body materialized in her bedroom doorway. Backlighted by the lamps in the hall, he was as tall, as broad-shouldered as she remembered. His facial features were once more shadowed by the wide-brimmed hat. The reek of his cigarette made her want to choke.

"Carter," she cried, "leave me alone!" The nightmare sensations so well remembered from the garage spun across the room, trapping her in a web of fear. No matter how often she told herself that Carter was dead, he was standing before her. No trick this time. Carter was real and he was angry.

"Eleanor, you're my wife."